Tag Archives: novel writing

November 13, 2015 · 2:42 pm

Progress Report

Friday the Thirteenth is probably a strange choice as a day to update you all (the non-Texican version of y’all) on how I am doing as a writer.  As a teacher, I would never give tests or graded assignments on Friday of Friggatriskaidekaphobia-fame because too many kids would bomb it just because the the stupid superstition still persists in our society.  But I am decidedly science-minded.  I know with absolute certainty that I am bound to fail more than I succeed, and one day in the very near future I will curl up my metaphorical toes and go metaphorically bye-bye.  So I might as well be perfectly honest about where I stand at present.

Skye lodge

As a parent, I have to to be better than all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.  I have dealt with bipolar disorder, social anxiety disorder, and severe depression in both my work as a teacher and as a parent of three.  I have to be good at putting Humpty together again.  For the time being, the eggs are all now puzzled back together.

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As a story-teller, my novel Snow Babies has now been completed and edited.  The publisher is now in the process of turning the thing into an actual book.  Not much more is standing in the way of me being the author of three published novels (and potentially two of them that are actually good).

As a blogger, I now have only 48 more days to go to reach my goal of posting every single day of 2015.  I have actually become a better writer by doing this, and these blogs are now a rich source of material for future projects, should I be lucky enough to survive for a while longer and do them.

My NaNoWriMo novel, When the Captain Came Calling, now stands at 17,000 words with 17 days left to reach the 50,000.  (Hey, I know it is not possible to actually get that far, but the competition is driving my progress forward after spinning my wheels through September and October.)

The painting above (Story-Teller of Skye Lodge) is making progress too, though you can see there is still a long way to go to complete it, especially once I layer in all the intricate designs in the dream-tale background.

So, that is my current report card.  I’m not clearly acing it, but I am also not failing.

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November 1, 2015 · 4:15 pm

Remember November

tree time banner

November is a light blue month.  I suppose me saying that, and especially me believing it is true, is evidence of some further mental illness… I know there are other people like me who think things you can’t see have colors, and they are probably loony-birds too.  But I have always felt that months have colors.  August is burnt orange.  September is rose red.  October is yellow-brown.  And November is a light blue.

November is also the month that I turn 59 in 2015.  Almost 60!  I am moving into my cranky-old-coot phase of life.  That’s okay too.  It is also probably evidence of mental illness.  Old brains tend to get a bit fermented… especially when they’ve been sauteed over time in a stew of stress, pain, doubt, and old wounds that never really heal.  I enjoy getting older because now I have the excuse that I am a doddering old coot to help me get away with the creatively evil things I was always too goody-two-shoes and afraid to do when I was younger.  No worries.  I am not changing into Dracula over night.  Halloween has come and gone without me doing anything seriously bad… other than writing novels.  At least, not that I am aware of.

November is also NaNoWriMo.  This year I begin the month putting the final editing touches on Snow Babies.  Then it is time to get serious about When the Captain Came Calling.  

Voodoo Val coverMary and the Captain

WTCCC is a novel about girls re-forming an old boys gang… with boys in it, and taking on the magic of sea-stories… lies that old sailors will tell.  Captain Noah Dettbarn returns home to Iowa from the South Pacific cursed with invisibility and being pursued by magical monsters.  Mary Philips, the girl on the right, has become the new leader of the Norwall Pirates.  Valerie Clarke, on the left, is the youngest member of the club, and she is the viewpoint character filtering the sometimes scary world of adults through her imaginative young mind.  She’s also in the picture of Mary since she has been turned into a golden-furred squirrel in that picture.

This novel I am using for NaNoWriMo already stands at 41 pages and more than 14,000 words.  So I have a good head start.  A novel in a month?  50,000 words?  Easy for a crazy old coot who is retired and not busy enough by half.  As long as I can keep on kicking (the dog is watching me as I write this because she doesn’t want me kicking her) and keep on living, I can do it easily.  It is a story idea I have been working on since 1981.  And even though November is a blue month, depression is not a problem.  It is light blue, remember?  The dark blue of depression doesn’t come along until December, a month colored deep indigo blue.  And by that time there is no way fickle fate can prevent Snow Babies from being published by 2016.

(Since I am still short of 500 at this point, let me point out the favorite words I have used in this post that tickle me passionate pink; coot, fickle, loony, doddering, and indigo.  Now you can ignore this parenthetic expression.)

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October 11, 2015 · 2:24 pm

The Coat of Many Colors

Denny&Tommy1I am nearing the completion of my novel Snow Babies.  The editor, Jessie Cornwell, sent it back to me with the third read-through completed.  I am now closing in on a completed final draft ready to go to print.  And I am posting this post to acknowledge that the character of the hobo with the quilted jacket for a coat is indeed me.  Well, as close to being me as a fictional character who may or may not be an angel can come.  I admit I am probably not as good as Lucky Catbird Sandman is good.

But I am a man who is basically a Walt Whitman-type poet-y sort of man in a cartoony sort of way.  That is what the Catbird really is.

ragged man

He wears a coat of many colors which is made up of many varicolored patches.  Each patch in the crazy quilt of his coat stands for a memory of the many people he has known and the problems he has solved.  He helps the main character of the story, a small-town Iowa girl named Valerie Clarke, as her little town is besieged by a terrible blizzard.  The Trailways bus is stranded near the town, and on the bus are four orphan boys, running away to nowhere and desperately needing the intervention of the angels to help them escape the lives they’ve left behind.  Catbird spins miracles out of random things and random snatches of Walt Whitman’s poetry.  He carries around a copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, and he quotes from it like a Bible.  So, he is a me-character because he was born in my goofy brain and represents no real person living or dead.  He is more of a literary device than a man… just like me.  And that is notable because all the other players in the story are based on real people that I have known, either in Iowa or Texas, real people who have been a significant part of my real life.

tree time banner

I believe this is why the novel is the most important thing I have ever written.  It is because, if I ever found any real worthy wisdom to spread around like jam on bread, it is to be found in this book.  It is the best thing I have ever written and published.  At least, so far.  And the mysterious stranger character, the man in the coat of many colors, Catbird… is me.  Judge for yourself if I am not like him.

Catbird Me 2

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October 5, 2015 · 2:46 pm

The Sky is Red

20151005_071555Today is a this-and-that post because I am juggling so many things with at least one hand tied behind my back.  And because this morning, (as you can see in my sunrise photo) the sky is red.  You don’t believe in signs and portents, you say?  Well, neither do I.  Still, the old saying is, “red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”  Are there rough times directly ahead?  Rough seas?  Hard sailing?  I wonder.

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250021_10151185182712298_1774974703_nMy favorite sports teams, the St. Louis Baseball Cardinals and the Arizona Football Cardinals have both been the best in the business in the really-recent past.  The baseball team has won 100 games and goes into the World Series playoffs expected by many to win it all.  Yet, they ended the season on a three-game losing streak with two of their best pitchers taking losses.  The football team, along with my all-time favorite football player, Larry Fitzgerald, had been cruising along undefeated at a totally dominating pace.  Yesterday they lost by two point to the St. Louis Rams.  Both teams are still sitting pretty in enviable positions in their respective sports.  Yet there are portents of doom.

My home continues to crumble and my own personal health is up and down and super-iffy.  The city gave us notice of a program to help with repairs and maintenance, but we make too much money to qualify.  And we still don’t have any money in the bank thanks to health-related expenses.  My body aches and my head spins frequently, but I am going to have to get back up on the ladder and finish painting the house.

So, what shall I do about it all?  Grim omens scare me and slow me down, but I grit my teeth and pitch in.  I have repainted the four shutters for the back of the house and re-hung two of them yesterday.  I can still paint and do work on the house.  Amazing things can be accomplished a little bit at a time.  After all, I put up new siding on the back of the house last year at this time working with only my sons and my daughter to help.  I managed to do it all before the city’s deadline and threatened thousand-dollar fine (because it only makes sense to fine people that much when they have no money to fix the outside of the house.)  I will beat whatever new deadlines they give me too.  But it is a good sign that they want to help and haven’t hit me with any new deadlines yet.

And I will double down on writing work.  I sent Snow Babies back to the editor Saturday, and I am closing in on getting that book in print.  I am getting back to work on the prequel, When the Captain Came Calling, and I even started a new character illustration, depicting Mary Philips and the invisible sea captain.  Here is the pen and ink drawing;

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And here is the first of the color I have completed;

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So maybe portents are not always bad things.  Maybe the sky is red because it is the color of cardinals, and things are looking up for the boys wearing red.  Cardinals are the little red birds that sing sweetly and never fly away when the winter comes.  We cardinals take on all comers and maybe we will win it all for the 12th time… or the 1st time since the 1950’s… or the first time ever.  After all, the sky is red.

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October 3, 2015 · 2:48 pm

Lazy Plugs for Small Holes

Snowies

I have been working on final edits for my novel Snow Babies.  I have also been struggling with diabetes, arthritis, and COPD.  At the same time, I have been writing up a storm on my blog and posting all kinds of incredibly goofy and somewhat creative stuff.  So today is a break without leaving a hole in my goal of posting a blog post every single day of 2015.  I have to go all the way to Balch Springs, Texas today for a flag football game.  So, if you are disappointed with this meager post, go back and look at any of the other recent posts you may have missed.  I’m not saying they are worth the effort, but wasting your time is what I do.

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September 21, 2015 · 2:28 pm

The Beg-Eye

20150918_111904“I want that chip… yes, that chip… that Pringle’s chip!”

“Are you talking to me again, dog?”

“Yes.  I need that chip.  If I eat that I will be a people again.”

“But I am eating this chip.  I like Pringle’s.  And I need energy if I am going to finish editing my novel Snow Babies.  Let me finish eating my chips.”

“Look at my eyes.  Can’t you see I NEED that chip?  It is the most important thing in life that you give me that chip.”

“No, I will not look at your eyes.  I know about your Beg-Eye super power.  All dogs have it, and little dogs have it in spades.”

“Seriously, just look into my eyes!”

“Oh!  Uh, I shouldn’t have looked into your eyes just now.”

“Smack!  Crunch!  Chew-chew-gobble!  Um, yes, you should have.  Always look at my eyes when you have food in your hands!”

“Well, maybe I need to start writing now.  I am putting the food back in the pantry.”

“Awww!  Shucksies!”

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“Look into my eyes!” says Jade the talking dog.  “You want to buy this book when it’s published, don’t you?  Yes, I think you do.”

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September 17, 2015 · 2:23 pm

The Doorway at the Top of the Stairs (A silly rhyme of Paffooney making)

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At the top of the stairs and the end of the hall,

Is a doorway to wonder and the pith of it all.

I have lived a long life, and I’ve lived it well,

But a life isn’t over with a story to tell.

So I set to work justly with my ink and my pen,

And I draw and I write and remember when…

But there has to be more to this door in the hall,

A studio’s not just a hole in the wall.

I write about Seuss and his silly red rhymes,

And I think and I write and remember the times…

And the verse can come faster, or the verse can come slow

But the verse is about all the things that you know,

And you must pass it on to them that come after,

And you post your ideas on door, wall, and rafter.

And when the long day finally comes to its end,

There will be a sharing with a good ear to bend,

And a book, or two books, or three they can read,

That reveal all the secrets that they’ll ever need.

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the Clarkes

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September 12, 2015 · 2:58 pm

The Unquiet Teacher Brain

Miss Morgan oneYesterday, as I was reviewing a movie that is almost as old as I am (in December, 1961 I was 5), I couldn’t help but think like a teacher.  If I were going to teach this movie as a piece of literature (and movies ARE literature!  Don’t argue with me!!!), I would start with an anticipation guide… or I could call it a lesson focus.  I would tell the students a little bit about why this movie is important to me.  I would give the background information about how Walt Disney wanted to make a musical picture like The Wizard of Oz, and even bought the rights to Oz books by Frank L. Baum to make it happen.  It was supposed to be a starring vehicle for his popular Mickey Mouse Club Mouseketeers, and ended up starring Annette Funicello (and I would never mention anything about my childhood desire to see Annette naked because information like that mixed with giggle-happy teens and hormones is an explosive mix and would get me fired).  I would also start a discussion of heroes and villains and what sort of patterns we might anticipate as the story went down that well-traveled path of the hero (I might mention some of Joseph Campbell’s work on myths because it is almost relevant enough to fit in the lesson… and it would not get me fired).  But, suddenly, I realize as the teacher-brain machinery is churning on this idea… I am no longer a teacher.  I am retired.  I am not even well enough to go be a substitute teacher for a day or two.  And besides, Texas principals all frown on showing movies in class when you could be doing worksheets to prepare for State STAAR Tests.  And Disney sues teachers for using their copyrighted materials in the classroom because, well… evil fascist corporate empire ruled by a mouse, right?  So I am bummed.

Cool School Blue

When do you stop thinking like a teacher so much that it hurts?  Probably never.  I got even with Fate just a little bit by writing the novel Magical Miss Morgan, in which I gave some of my old lesson plans to the fictional version of me as a teacher (the version of me that is not a cartoon rabbit as a teacher).  I had Miss Morgan teach a class of sixth graders about J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, and tried to incorporate some of my goofier teaching ideas into the story as evidence that Miss M is, in fact, a very good teacher (hard to fake if you are not a good enough teacher to at least recognize what good classroom practices look like).  And I had enough fun pretending to be a female teacher with goofy imaginary students like Mike and Blueberry in the Paffooney above, enough fun to create what I think is my best work of fiction so far.  I submitted it to the Chanticleer Book Reviews YA novel-writing contest.  I have to wait like 30 years to find out if I failed to win anything… but that’s okay.  Doing it quelled the unbridled teacher spirit in me that keeps threatening to kick down the stall gate and run away from the safety of the brain barn in the middle of a tornado… or something equally horsey but dangerous.  So, I guess I am okay for the moment.  But what do I do next when the teacher brain in me fires up and goes into overdrive yet again?

Self Portrait vxv

Ah well, I will think of something.

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August 20, 2015 · 2:15 pm

Terry Pratchett, the Grand Wizard of Discworld

image borrowed from TVtropes.com

image borrowed from TVtropes.com

I firmly believe that I would never have succeeded as a teacher and never gotten my resolve wrapped around the whole nonsense package of being a published author if I hadn’t picked up a copy of Mort, the first Discworld novel by Terry Pratchett that I ever encountered.  I started reading the book as a veteran dungeon-master at D&D role-playing games and also as a novice teacher having a world of difficulty trying to swim up the waterfalls of Texas education fast enough to avoid the jagged rocks of failure at the bottom.  I was drinking ice tea when I started reading it.  More of that iced tea shot out my nose while reading and laughing than went down my gullet.  I almost put myself in the hospital with goofy guffaws over Death’s apprentice and his comic adventures on a flat world riding through space and time on the backs of four gigantic elephants standing on the back of a gigantic-er turtle swimming through the stars.  Now, I know you have no earthly idea what this paragraph even means, unless you read Terry Pratchett.  And believe me, if you don’t, you have to start.  If you don’t die laughing, you will have discovered what may well be the best humorist to ever put quill pen to scroll and write.  And if you do die laughing, well, there are worse ways to go, believe me.

lasthero

Discworld novels are fantasy-satire that make fun of Tolkien and Conan the Barbarian (written by Robert E. Howard, not the barbarian himself) and the whole world of elves and dwarves and heroes and dragons and such.  You don’t even have to love fantasy to like this stuff.  It skewers fantasy with spears of ridiculousness (a fourth level spell from the Dungeons of Comedic Magic for those fellow dungeon masters out there who obsessively keep track of such things).  The humor bleeds over into the realms of high finance, education, theater, English and American politics, and the world as we know it (but failed to see from this angle before… a stand-on-your-head-and-balance-over-a-pit-of-man-eating-goldfish sort of angle).

makingmoneycover

Terry Pratchett’s many wonderful books helped me to love what is ugly, because ugly is funny, and if you love something funny for long enough, you understand that there is a place in the world even for goblins and trolls and ogres.  Believe me, that was a critical lesson for a teacher of seventh graders to learn.  I became quite fond of a number of twelve and thirteen year old goblins and trolls because I was able see through the funny parts of their inherent ugliness to the hidden beauty that lies within (yes, I know that sounds like I am still talking about yesterday’s post, but that’s because I am… I never stop blithering about that sort of blather when it comes to the value hidden inside kids).

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I have made it a personal goal to read every book ever written by Terry Pratchett.  And that goal is now within reach because even though he is an incredibly prolific writer, he has passed on withing the last year.  He now only has one novel left that hasn’t reached bookstores.  Soon I will only need to read a dozen more of his books to finish his entire catalog of published works.  And I am confident I will learn more lessons about life and love and laughter by reading what is left, and re-reading some of the books in my treasured Terry Pratchett paperback collection.  Talk about your dog-eared tomes of magical mirth-making lore!  I know I will never be the writer he was.  But I can imitate and praise him and maybe extend the wonderful work that he did in life.  This word-wizard is definitely worth any amount of work to acquire and internalize.  Don’t take my convoluted word for it.  Try it yourself.

borrowed from artistsUK.com

borrowed from artistsUK.com

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August 13, 2015 · 5:04 pm

A Low-Fat Essay With One Third Fewer Calories

Val B22

Yesterday I posted a political satire in which I accused Rand Paul and Chris Christie of being the reincarnation of Laurel and Hardy.  I may have also suggested that Republican Presidential candidates are mostly possessed by the spirits of old comedy teams who share the bully and the idiot style of comedy made famous by Stan and Ollie.  That post had about 380 calories from empty carbohydrates and the saturated fat was off the charts.  If I am to provide a healthy diet of low-quality purple paisley prose to those who ready my pretentiously faux-literary blog, then I need to alternate in some high-fiber, low calorie fare.  After all, this is a place where people come to sample my ideas and my so-called humor.  Any and all fat that they get from here goes straight to their head.  It can clog the arteries of the thinking organ.  So, let me offer something light and fibrous today.

Yesterday I finished the first-pass edit of my novel Snow Babies.  I also got it sent to my editor at PDMI, Jessie Cornwell.  Her edits caused serious pain and minor bleeding, but that is merely an indicator that she is very professional and does the job well.  And on occasion, she makes me laugh.  She identified and corrected my creepy fascination with the word “penis” and cut it out of my novel.  I am sure you can imagine how painful something like that can be.  But I deserved it.  A writer has to be aware that there are quirks in his thinking that interfere with communicating ideas to the reader.  And the nutritional value of the ideas and thinking in a book are not only what makes it worth reading, but worth writing in the first place.

Denny&Tommy1

It is a little odd to be working on a novel about a blizzard in Iowa in deep December when it is August in Texas and we are undergoing 100-degree plus weather during the yearly heat wave and drought.  It is hard to imagine deadly cold and Christmas-wish thinking when you have to sit naked by the air conditioner and you still sweat out gallons.  (Notice I did not use the word “penis” even once in this paragraph, Jessie.)  (Oops!  Okay, don’t count the parenthetic expression, please.)

But I love these characters.20150813_113902

Valerie Clarke, the main character, is an eleven-year-old girl trying to make her way in a cold world after the death of her father.  She finds and latches onto a mysterious old hobo who goes by the name Catbird.  The man wears a coat which is a crazy quilt of colorful patches.  He carries around a dog-eared copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass and quotes from it as if it is his Bible.  She gives him a place to stay, with her and her grieving mother in the nick of time before the blizzard hits her little Iowa town.  Valerie is based in part on my own daughter.

A bus gets stranded in the rural farming community and the bus contains four boys who are not only passengers, but runaway orphans escaping from the Illinois foster care system.  The youngest boy is crippled.

So, I am for the moment only posting something light that you really don’t have to work too hard to consume.  The main idea is simply that I have finished another step in the process of publishing my long-delayed novel.  And hopefully this post isn’t needlessly fattening, like many of my posts are.

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